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The quack reached into his bosom, drew forth a pistol, pointed it at the right eye of the gypsy, and said: "Look into the mouth of that and tell me whether you see a bullet lying in its throat!" "I zink zat ze señor an' heez piztol are boz lying in zeir zroats," he answered with easy irony. "Good! But I am not here to match wits with you. I want that horse, and lie or no lie, I will have it.
And he pinched the child's cheek, tenderly as his mother would have done. "And here's mine!" Angela, not to be outdone, piped up, presenting her child, also in her arms, to the delirious bandit. "An' what heez name?" "It ain't a he it's a she, I told you!" Angela corrected. "Ah! All kinds you 'ave 'ere, eh? Good! An' what 'er name?" "Can't you guess?" asked "Red," coming forward, smiling.
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